


Herzeleid

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: AU. Roger is an abused teen who finds a home in a music school where certain musically inclined boys spend many hours.H/C, friendhsip, mystery.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Brian had seen him snooping around the music school some times. Brian was the “guardian” of the room were they kept the instruments when there weren't classes, cleaned and did some maintenance in exchange for being able to play the instruments of the music school when he wanted. He could play all types of guitars, and basses and anything he wanted, anything that his teenage pocket couldn't afford. It truly was a great deal and he had a key, which meant that he could go in anytime.

Sometimes, if he knew that no one would be there, he would often go there to study. It was quiet, it was peaceful and if he was jammed he could do a guitar solo to clear his head. Music was always helpful in times of need. And now there he was, in a moment he wasn't supposed to be there, and that boy was there too, looking longingly at the school. But it was so cold, it had snowed only hours ago, and this boy was only wearing a light jacket, his breathing visible in the freezing air, while Brian was delightfully warm with his portable heater and freshly made coffee. He had to do something.

“Hey, are you interested in joining? I can show you around.”

The mystery blond smiled, and came in without a word. He had to be about Brian's age, and had long sandy blond hair that was still a bit wet from the snow of before. Odd. Had he been outside this whole time? This was no weather to be out.

“Do you want a cup of coffee? I just made it, so it's still warm.”

The blond boy nodded enthusiastically and took the coffee cup with shaking hands. Brian noticed that one of the hands was bandaged, poorly.

“I'm Brian, by the way.” And he really wasn't supposed to be doing this. If the boss found out that he was letting in random strangers his key key would be taken away. But there was something about this boy.... who hadn't even given his name yet....

“I'm... I'm Roger.” Roger's voice was broken, but beautiful. “I've been wanting to... come in for a while, but... it probably costs money, and I know my parents aren't going to spend a penny on me learning music, so... What's the point?”

There was also an angry bruise at the base of Roger's neck. Huh. Maybe he got into a fight. He looked very sweet with those big blue eyes, but appearances could be deceiving. Brian himself had been deceived by them more than once, and now had become more observant, more of an skeptic. Something told him in this case that whatever had happened to Roger didn't have a simple explanation. 

“What instrument would you like to try?”

“That!” Roger said, his whole lighting up, pointing at the drums. Odd, for a first choice, most teens wanted to do guitar and only guitar, the nerdier ones violin, but it was tough to find good drummers around.

“We really could use with a new drummer.” Brian mused aloud. “Why don't you try?”

And Roger smiled a big smile and sat in front of the drums.

He had a natural talent for the drums. He wasn't perfect, of course, but for someone just trying to do something... It was fast, and there was some semblance of a rhythm in there. It was more that some people had managed in months. 

“Have you played before?”

“Never. But the drums always appealed to me. An instrument that allows you to hit things back, and make nice music with it. All types of beats, all types of rhythms. It's strong and it's... versatile. I like that.”

“You're... quite good, for such a beginner. I... I actually can't sign people up, but if you come tomorrow, before six...”

“I can't afford it. They wouldn't... let me. Thanks for letting me in, though.” This was most likely not permitted and just a kindness to a cold-looking stranger on a winter night. 

There was a sad smile on Roger's chapped lips and Brian felt once again compelled to do something for the guy.

“Maybe there will be some sort of grant, or like help? You should come by when the director's around, and explain it. She'll think of something, I'm sure, we really need new drummers.”

Roger twirled a drumstick in his hand. Ah, if things were so easy... Brian noticed there was another bruise/gash on his wrist. That really must have been quite a fight. Or maybe something else.

“I really should be leaving you alone with your studies, shouldn't I? You're already told me to come back when there's more people. But I don't want to go home.”

This place was safe. It was cold and quiet and a completely strange place with a completely strange person, but it was safe. This was the only thing Roger wanted in that moment. No heat, no food, no good clothes and money. He just wanted... this. Music, a big empty room, a kind stranger with nice words and coffee. 

“I'm staying until eight. You can stay here until then, but then you'll have to go, sorry.”

Roger's hand was shaking again, so he left the drumstick on the top of the drum. It was a stupid dream, anyway. Better to go back to reality, leave the things that weren't meant to be aside. 

“But you should really come by some other day. You... you have a gift, and it would be a pity to let it go to waste.”

Ok, maybe gift was a bit of a stretch, but he really wanted to convince this guy. He had something different, something special. A kind of magic.

Roger smiled, thinking that this guy's insistence was very pleasant. But the time for the nice things was over. He had to wake up, and face the life he had. He got up and went back into the cold merciless night, wearing only that light jacket, full of bruises and sadness. Before leaving completely, he looked at Brian one last time and said: 

“I'll see what I can do.”

It wasn't much, but it was something. The beginning of something... special.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Roger looked at his shirtless chest before he put on some clothes. He looked at the bruises, of all colours and shapes. This was mainly his fault, he knew. He was irksome, he spoke up too much, he wasn't and had never been obedient enough. It was his own fault that he was beaten like this, it was his fault that  _he_ always wanted to beat him down... His own doing. Reckless, disobedient,  _you bought this pain._

 

The worst part wasn't pain, no, it was having to take it all. He had really wanted to fight back, but if he did...  _He_ had hurt his sister too in the beginning. Nothing too serious, just some pushing and maybe a little slap, but  _he_ could have done more. And so they reached this agreement: if Roger didn't fight back,  _he_ would leave Clare alone. If Roger didn't say anything, to anyone, and just took it in any shape and for however long the beating was, then nobody else had to get hurt. Ever since he did that, she had been safe, told Roger that  _he_ wasn't mean with her anymore. 

 

This was the reason why he couldn't run away, either. Without him to take the blows the brunt of the man's anger would fall on them, on his sister and his mum. Whatever the man's fault, he'd treated his mum properly. It was “disrepectful little children” like him that angered him. But if he wasn't there... He couldn't allow Clare or his mum to be hurt the way he was. So he just hid the wounds the best way he could, and put up with it. It was the lesser of many evils, he guessed.

 

They had been nearly starving before mum had married that guy, evicted from their little apartments, no money for clothes or food, or transport to school. Every day had been a struggle, a constant fight for the most basic needs. They didn't now if they would have anything to eat, or some shelter from the cold. Now they had their basics needs covered, they had a decent home, and most of the family was... all right.

 

But some days it was hard.

 

Roger was tired of being punched and humiliated and having to keep quiet, having to pretend he was the old Roger from before, funny, energetic, always up for a fight. It was difficult to want to throw a punch when you were on the receiving end of so many of them. It was hard to smile and joke around when you heard so many insults that you began believing them, hard to jump and run when you hurt so bad. Everywhere. And it wasn't just the bruises.

 

_He_ had accidentally destroyed the only one left of Roger's scarves, so he was left with just his light black jacket for the whole winter. Mum had tried to convince  _him_ to buy him a new one, maybe a couple of scarves too, but  _he_ was very reluctant to spend money on Roger. Still, things were better now, at least they had food and they could pay for electricity and power, those things. For the rest of them, that house wasn't so bad. But for Roger it was a house of horrors, and he was glad to get out of it no matter how cold it was. 

 

He wanted something he could call his own, he wanted something that that horrible man couldn't touch, couldn't put his hands on. A secret. So he decided to go back to that music school, hoping to find the same boy from the other day. He didn't want to have to tell the same story again, about how he had no money but wanted to try, and maybe that boy would help him, put a word in his favour with the big bosses.

 

Fortunately, he found him quite easily, he was in a room near the entrance with a red guitar and a couple of other boys their age.

 

“Brian, no offense” one of them was saying. “your song is beautiful and all but I have no idea of what am I singing, I have no idea what it's about, I... Well, hello, hello, hello... And who might you be, pretty boy?”

 

Roger wasn't sure if the boy would remember him, but...

 

“Roger! I was hoping you'd be back! This is the guy I told you about, possible new drummer? These are Freddie and John. Let me call the director so she can watch you play, I told her you might be coming by.”

 

Roger played again for the director, and Brian's friends decided that they liked it's his energy. Sure, he wasn't the most musically educated guy, but he had passion and enthusiasm, and an appreciation and interest on the drums that the rest of the people just didn't have. There were some people who got interested in drums because alligators were taken but didn't actually like the instrument. Not Roger.

 

When he was banging on those drums he felt free, powerful, stronger and more interested than he'd ever been. He felt like he was creating something good, something beautiful and at the same time impactful, in other words, he felt he was creating something great. The director seemed to be enjoying it as well. It was a good performance, strong albeit a bit chaotic.   


“You have vigour, kid, you have a lot of potential. And you seem to understand percussion much more than many of her enroll the students..”  


Roger's blue eyes were hopeful.

  
“S o I can stay?”

  
“R ight now all I can offer is a trial month. Are you sure there's no money? No pocket money, no birthday presents...”

 

Roger shook his head, sad.   


“There's not a lot of money in my house.” (not for him anyway) “and when there is I'd rather it went to my sister.”

 

The director liked that. This boy was sweet, kind and just wanted to have some release for all his creativity and energy.   


“So you're talented and selfless? Well, darling, I will sign you up for that trial and see if I can find any other jobs in the school or in the teacher's houses to pay for the classes. How does that sound?”  


That sounded great, and Roger smiled a smile so bright that it could light up the whole room... And this was just the beginning.   


After that, Roger was there nearly every afternoon, and became a very welcome and sunny presence in the music school. The percussion teachers loved his enthusiasm and his willingness to try new things, to learn every bit of rhythm, what every drum was there for. He also became fast friends with the other students - especially Brian and his friends.   


Freddie loved having Roger around. Sure, he loved Brian and John too, but as talented and good people as they were, they could be a bit... dense. John was very introverted and Brian was often too diplomatic for Freddy's outrageous tastes. But not Roger.   


Their new drummer boy was a roller coaster, outgoing, fast, a never stopping continuous machine of charm, ideas and creativity, and a bright energy. He had clear notions of what he wanted and how he wanted it, and wasn't afraid to oppose anyone. A very strong personality, no doubt. He was a force of nature and he breathed his energy into the people around him. He'd also charmed every female member of the staff of the school (and some of the male) and he'd become part of the school's landscape. After three weeks, it was difficult to remember the school without him.   


But of course it didn't last long.  _He_ was angry that that boy was always out, and that whatever he was doing, it was making him happy. No. His power over that kid was practically the only thing that brought him joy those days. After having to take orders all day long at work, and then having to go back to an ungrateful wife he was supposed to treat decently.... He had a lot of anger inside. 

 

But Roger... with that boy  _he_ could do anything  _he_ wanted and the boy wasn't allowed to talk back, or even find something else to get away from him, and his lessons. That boy was his, absolutely and completely his. And  _he_ wanted the boy to hurt and hurt as badly as possible.   


After some days of mystery,  _he_ found a drumstick. Bingo. The next time  _he_ was alone with Roger he broke three fingers in one of his hands, and made it very clear that his wrist and arm would be next if he didn't stop. Roger's eyes filled with tears, as he felt his newly built world come undone around him.  _He_ smiled.  _He_ was still the boss.   


“I can't play anymore.” Roger said, heartbroken, hardly able to hold back the tears that afternoon when he went back to the school. “I don't know if I'll ever be able to play anymore. These last weeks were really nice, but... I can't... it's over.”  


Just as he was leaving a hand on his shoulder stopped him.   


“Roger, stay.” Freddie said. “Sing with us. You know how much we love your voice.”  


“But...”  


“We will always find something for you. You're one of us now, and no mysterious injury will stop us from helping you make music. ” Brian said, stubborn. Roger was torn, afraid that the horror from his home would one day reach these nice people if he stayed.  


“Stay, Roger” Even Deaky was asking him, which considering how shy he was with people he didn't know well was quite a feat.  


So Roger stayed and sung. He knew that it wouldn't last long, he knew sooner or later (probably soon) it would all fall apart. But in the meantime.... he had people who wanted him there, and he would enjoy every day, every hour of music he could.

 

Every bit of friendship away from the horror.

 


	3. Chapter 3

As they were saying goodbye, Freddie asked Roger to walk him home. If he managed to somehow get his parents to meet Roger, maybe get him some nice good dinner (he was way too thin, that boy) and if they saw his bruises maybe they would get him to open up more, tell him he had a safe home with them, something... But he was getting ahead of himself. They were arriving at his home and Freddie still had no excuse to make Roger stay. And then... something happened that made it almost impossible not to bring Roger in: the blond boy passed out.

It hadn't been for any single reason, but for many causes. The dread of having to go back home to him, the knowledge that this was probably the last time he saw those guys and did some music, his injuries combined with the cold acting up, the fact that he hadn't eaten yet that day.. Everything got together and as he was getting ready to say goodbye his eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed, boneless. There was a fleeting thought in his head, a “I hope I don't have to wake up again” in the background, before everything became pitch black.

Freddie freaked out, but was quick enough to catch the other teen before he feel on the floor, thankfully avoiding a head injury or any other complications, on top of everything else that seemed to be wrong with poor Roger.

“Mum! Dad! Kash! Help!”

His family got out in seconds, alarmed by Freddie´s desperate cries, and Freddie's dad was able to take the unconscious Roger in his arms, bridal carry style.

“Who...?”

“It's Roger! My friend from music school, the drummer! He was walking me here and he just... collapsed!” Freddie answered, panicky.

“Let's get him home and to someplace warm and comfortable.” His dad said, looking at boy with concern. “He is so pale.. is he ill?”

“No, I don't think so, but something's happening that he doesn't want to tell us. He's been showing up with injuries...”

“We'll do what we can for him at home, all right?”

Freddie's dad deposited Roger on their living room couch, carefully and gently, but the boy didn't react to it. Freddie's mum and sister appeared and he explained who he was and what happened.

“We were in the entrance and he just fainted!”

His mum looked at the other boy with warmth and started putting some tea boiling, while Kash wetted some hand towels. Even if he wasn't feverish, sometimes the water could wake people up. She put some on his face, cleaned up some dried blood, and noted just how battered the boy was.

“What happened to his face? And to his hand?”

“We don't know, he says he's been getting in fights but I think there's something else.” Freddie said, now worried that a lot of time had passed and his friend wasn't waking up. He was limp as a rag doll, letting himself be moved around.

Freddie's dad noticed a bruise that was on the lower part of the boy's neck, and undid a couple more buttons of the boy's shirt to see where it ended. The sight that greeted him made him and the rest of the members of the family gasp in horror.

“Dear....!”

Mum and Kash looked horrified. The boy's chest was black and blue, full of scars and half healed wounds.

“This is not just a couple of school fights. Someone has been beating up this boy for a long time.”

“This is abuse, assault, something you go to the police for.”

It was heartbreaking, seeing someone so young, with that angelic face. So awfully treated. So badly hurt.

“And he hasn't told us anything. Why wouldn't he? We could have helped!”

“When have to do something to help this poor child...”

Kash nodded, almost tearing up. She didn't know much about this boy still... It hurt her heart to see someone so young and innocent looking not just hurt, but hiding how much he'd been hurt, alone in all his pain. It was tragic, really.

After a couple of minutes in which nothing happened, Roger opened his eyes and found himself in a strange house, and found four people looking down at him and his exposed chest. Panicked, he started breathing too quick, too shallow.

“Calm down, Rog! You passed out in front of my house, and I brought you in. This is just my family.”

Freddie's mum offered him the tea with a kind smile.

“How are you feeling, child?”

“I'm... fine... but I have to... I can't stay...”

There was a hand on his shoulder, just as he tried to get up. A man who he imagined was Freddie's father.

“Who has hurt you like this?”

The difference between the concerned eyes of this man and his own stepfather who was usually happy to see him hurt nearly brought Roger to tears. He tried to get out but he was still so dizzy and tired, so weak... The day had been so long, the whole week had been too long and it was taking its toll on Roger.

Freddie's eyes were warm as he pleaded with his friend to let him help.

“You know you can tell me, Roger, you can trust me, and family. I'm sure there is something we can do...”

Roger shook his head, despair clear in his pale eyes.

“You can't. It will only get worse if I say something.”

“Worse how?” Freddie couldn't imagine what cold be worse than being systematically beaten up? That having fingers broken when one was trying to learn an instrument?

“I can't... can't say....”

“Why not? What will happen if you do?”

“... My sister...”

“This person will go after your sister if you don't keep quiet and take the blows?”

Roger nodded, glad not to have to be the person saying the words. Freddie's father seemed to determined to do something about that. This was wrong and people who stood idly in the face of injustice he considered to be as bad as those committing the crimes.

“Roger, I assure you if you let us help we will make sure that both of you and anyone else that might be in danger is protected. It is noble that you want to protect your sister, but the person who is doing this should be in prison, that is the only way that you will both be safe. Neither of you will be able to live safely while this person is out. Do it for her, if not for you.”

Roger thought about that for a moment. It was true. If at any point Roger failed to be there for whatever reason... his sister was still in danger. If Roger passed out too soon and he decided that he hadn't had his fun... Freddie's mum's eyes were kind and told him.

“Whatever happens, you will always have a safe place here.”

“You don't even know me...”

“Freddie has told us enough about you. If he cares that much, it's because you deserve it, Roger, please let us help you.”

“Is this person living with you? Is it... your father?”

Roger shook his head.

“Mum's husband.” He said, almost without voice. A shiver coursed through him. He shouldn't be saying anything, he should have kept quiet, this would ruin things even worse, he was betraying his loved ones, he...

“Does she know?”

“I don't think so.” Roger said. Or at least, he hoped that was the truth. He hoped that if his mother knew, he would have done something about it.

“How long?”

“About a year.” Freddie hurt just hearing those words. A whole year, Roger had been beaten up by his stepdad, and had said nothing to try and save his sister from the same fate. It was cruel, it was horrible.

“We will have to call her, maybe have her drop your sister off. Then we will have to talk to the police. I know it's difficult, but it has to be done, child.”

Freddie smiled.

“Think of all the music you will be able to do, once you're safe from him. This is a good thing, Rog. And we're standing by you no matter what, me Brian and John.”

Roger wanted to smile back, but couldn't. This would have consequences, he knew.

And not knowing what it would be, but knowing it would probably be something major... It was scary. Still, Roger looked at his bandaged broken hand and breathed. Freddie was right. If they locked _him_ up he would be able to drum for years and years. His smile was so sad it made everyone's heart ache, but at least it was a smile. Freddie hugged this new friend that had become so important, trying to make up for the shit he'd gone through.

Now came the difficult part. Now they had to face the beast.

 


	4. Chapter 4

She had known this was coming. A mother knows these things, a mother knows her children better than anyone else. And she'd known that she should have done something before, something more to stop it. Roger's mother had seen the bruises on her son's arms, had seen the broken bones, the bandages, but hadn't wanted to face facts, to ask him what really was happening.

He said it was fight, he said it was at school, but if it was so, why hadn't she received any messages from the principal, talking about her boy's terrible behaviour? In fact, last time she spoke with the principal he had said that Roger was quieter now, that he didn't get into so many fights.

So at some point she knew that it was going to explode in her face, the fact that someone was deliberately hurting Roger, and for some reason the boy was letting them and keeping quiet, even making excuses. At some point someone braver would notice the same things she had, and would do something about it, even if it was hard.

As it happened, she was left with no choice, because the people that Roger was with refused to let the boy go from their home until they made sure that the man that was hurting Roger (she'd known, in her heart of hearts that it was her husband, but hadn't want to admit it, not even to herself) was away and far, hopefully locked for good.

She could visit, but only after making sure that _he_ wasn't following her. Roger had been taken in by some Indian-looking family whose boy was a friend of Roger's from music school. She pretended that she hadn't known, because feigning ignorance was easier than admitting she'd let her boy be hurt like that. She didn't think she could forgive herself, and the Bulsaras weren't too forgiving, either.

The boy's sister looked at her with a mean judgy stare, despite the many times that Roger said it was okay. Somehow, that little girl that Roger's mum had known, and hadn't said anything or done anything to help him. The girl knew, and wasn't happy about it.

“We need evidence that it's been him the whole time. We have the injuries, of course, and we have witnesses, like myself and Brian and John, but it would be better to have some irrefutable proof.” The boy, Freddie, was saying. “This cases can easily be dismissed as “he was just disciplining the kid” and it would Roger in an even worse condition.”

“Guys, you don't have to...”

“Hush, Roger. We're going to save you like it or not.” Freddie said, and he meant it.

That very night, the Bulsaras received an angry call from an angrier man, demanding that they “give that ungrateful boy back”. Roger's mum had gone back home, afraid that her husband would turn on Clare with no Roger. So far, he was just turning his anger to the phone.

“We're sorry, Mr. Bosworth, but Roger is not coming back. We are working so that you pay for what you have been doing to him, for everything you've done to this poor child.”

“And what have I done? Discipline that kid, because that's what he deserves! That's what he needs, and no one will tell you different. He's a liar and bad rotten apple and if had to deal a few blows...”

“A few blows? This poor boy has four broken bones and cigarette burns all over his shoulders and back. And I don't need him to tell me to know it was you who caused them.”

“I am his stepfather. It is up to me to decide how to raise him.”

“How is breaking three fingers on his hand so he won't be able to play an instrument raising someone? No, that's abuse.”

“Abuse? Don't make me laugh!”

“It is when it has been happening for years...”  
“See! Lies! I only started hitting him last year, so it can't have been years. Just the one.”

“A year of broken bones, burns, bruises and terrorising a boy with threats...”

“Yes, it was, and so what? What is it to you? He's not your kid, you have no authority over him.If I want to break his fingers, I will, if I want to burn him with my cig, I will, and if he doesn't say anything...”

“He's not saying anything because you threatened to go after his sister!”

“He told you that, didn't he, the little tattle tale. Well, if you don't bring him back, I'll make good on my threats, I promise! I've been dying for an excuse to show that little girl the back of my belt.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Bosworth. You have been most helpful.”

Unbeknownst to the man, Freddie had taken a tape recorder form the school and had been recording the whole conversation, putting it on the speaker. He often used it to record himself when he sang, and play with what he'd recorded. When he heard that this man was calling their home he thought of an unexpected use for it, something that would give them the very desired confession.

There wasn't much that _he_ could do, when it was so clear that he was guilty of so many crimes against children. Freddie's parents went to the police with the tape of the conversation and some pictures of Roger's injuries, and also gave their statement. Other people gave their statement's too (Brian and John among them) and in the end he was charged with continued physical abuse, harassment, battery and assault of a minor.

It was a big scandal, because he had been a very popular man, well-liked and when he was charged with all those terrible crimes, everyone turned their backs on him, and wondered how they could have been living and interacting with such a monster.

Roger... for a long time he didn't want to talk about it, didn't even want to go back home, There were too many bad memories, and it hurt realising that his mum had known and hadn't done anything. So for a while he just stayed with Freddie's family, and they were there when he had all those nightmares, when he was taken by fear that he would come back somehow, and be even more angry.

At Freddie's place he felt safe, he felt happy and away from the horrors of his family, and he felt that he had a place where he belonged. Kash adored him (there was some crushing going on) and Freddie's dad made Roger feel that he didn't have to be afraid anymore. That he didn't have to take all the abuse, that it wasn't part of being raised. Freddie and him became even closer, and sang the most amazing duets.

After some time, Roger went back home, but he would always remain an honorary Bulsara, and often spent the night there, with Freddie and the family who had saved him from that never ending hell of beatings and fear. After some time, they made a band, the two of them with Brian and John. And they were big. Roger had been a bit self-conscious about his scars at first, but the fans loved them, and he began performing shirtless, showing that despite everything he'd gone through, he was still standing, still strong.

When Mr. Bosworth came out prison and tried to get to Roger, he was met with an angry mob, composed of fans, friends and practically every drummer on the south of England, who had seen all of Roger's scars and had no intention of letting him get anymore.

After all the beatings, all the loneliness and the fear... Now Roger knew that he was protected. He often thought of that first day when Brian asked him to enter in the school, offered him a place in there. Without that, without the music and without his friends, maybe he would have had to endure the hurt for many years, maybe he would have died.

Music, and three boys who called themselves Queen, had saved him.

And he could now plays his drums in peace, with a myriad scars, but a smile on his face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You know you want to comment!


End file.
